


Dance like a butterfly and drink like a fish

by macwell



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15127067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macwell/pseuds/macwell
Summary: “I can tell you’re unhappy,” Mandy said.“That’s ridiculous.”





	Dance like a butterfly and drink like a fish

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from A Bigger Paper Bag by Father John Misty. I figured I'd go ahead and post this little snippet I wrote this morning since I don't think I have any intentions of turning it into a longer thing. There's a brief mention of needles, if that's something you're sensitive to.

“Dennis,” Mandy said. Dennis turned to see her standing behind the couch, dressed in her ugly, beat up, pink house robe. He still found her kind of cute, with her brown hair up in a messy bun and her arms crossed across her chest. “What are you doing up?”  
  
“I should ask you the same question,” Dennis said.  

Her eyes flickered to the TV, where Dennis had been watching a reality show on Netflix about plastic surgery. On the screen, a woman poked at the excess fat on her stomach. “I just woke up,” Mandy said. “Thought I’d get some water and go back to bed. Want me to make you a glass?”  
  
“Sure,” Dennis said.    
  
To Dennis’s surprise, after placing his water on a coaster, Mandy sat down on the couch across from him. He kept his eyes trained on the screen, hoping she would take the hint that he wasn’t interested in conversation. Still, her eyes bored into the side of him face, making him uncomfortable, until he finally turned to her with a raised glass and said, “Good water.”  
  
“I can tell you’re unhappy,” Mandy said.     
  
“That’s ridiculous,” Dennis said.  
  
“It’s 3 a.m. and you’re watching reality television. You’re supposed to take Brian to school in four hours, and you’re going to have dark circles under your eyes.”  
  
“I can cover them up,” Dennis said.  
  
“I know you can,” Mandy said. She went quiet, surveying Dennis in his disheveled state: messy hair, stained shirt, and flannel pajama pants.  
  
“Then what’s the problem?” Dennis asked.  
  
“You’re not taking care of yourself,” Mandy said.    
  
Dennis didn’t know what to say. He’d heard this before, from Mac.  
  
“Dennis,” Mandy said, planing a hand on his ankle. “When’s the last time you made yourself something to drink? Other than a can of beer. Or the last time you made yourself a meal?”  
  
Dennis inched out of her reach, pulling his knee closer to his chest. “You don’t have to do that stuff. I didn’t ask you to.”  
  
“I care about you,” Mandy said. “As his father.”  
  
Dennis’s chest felt heavy.  
  
“I need you to try harder. That’s all I’m asking,” Mandy said.  
  
“Now I’m a bad father? Because I stay up late, and I don’t cook? How is that fair?” Dennis asked.  
  
“You’re bitter, Dennis. I’m not sure why, but there’s always anger just under the surface with you. And you’re sad, too,” Mandy said. It felt like an accusation.  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“You can be those things, and be a good parent, but you can’t let Brian know. You’re going to rub off on him, whether you like it or not. If he sees you’re angry with the world, he’s going to wonder why, and he’s going to find reasons to be angry too,” she said.  
  
“That’s not fair,” Dennis said.    
  
“That’s life,” Mandy said.  
  
“I mean you’re not being fair. Do you have any idea what a piece of shit my dad was? He fought with my mom and brought random women home a few times, and I’m pretty sure he murdered kids in Vietnam. He was never home, and when he was, he made us all miserable.”    
  
“I’m sorry,” Mandy said.    
  
“Don’t be,” Dennis said.  
  
They sat in silence for a little bit, watching but not really watching as the plastic surgeon advised the woman to get something injected into the bridge of her nose. Then Mandy said, “I think you need to be _more_ than better than your dad.”  
  
Dennis sighed. “Yeah. I know,” he said, keeping his eyes on the TV.  
  
“Okay. I’m going back to bed. You should sleep too,” Mandy said. Dennis watched her stand, annoyance prickling under his skin at her bossiness. “You know I have a King, if the couch is uncomfortable.”  
  
“That’s okay,” Dennis said.  
  
“Okay. Goodnight.”  
  
“Goodnight.” Dennis let himself sink back against the cushions, holding a pillow against his chest as the light of the TV flickered over his face. He watched needles go into the woman's face. He watched her talk to the camera, swollen and pink and hopeful about what she'd see once she finally took the bandages off. He let the water sit on the coaster, forming condensation, for a while, before finally reaching out and gulping it down.


End file.
